Rules of Insanity.

Love, when it defines, means,
Waiting on the stairs of life.

Waiting for the time to crawl,
A foot ahead and a foot back.
It would fall, It would raise,
But the sphere won't grow.
Even if it grows, It would still remain
As the moth that crawls by the fire.

Raise your eyes to the sky,
The moon awaits your presence.
Lower your gaze to the ground,
Where the light begs for your care.
Is it the horse that throttles,
Or the honey bee that stings.
Welcome to the world that can't discern,
What you speak and what the wind hums.

I swing, I slide, sunshine smiles with me,
I dance, I fly, the clouds pour with me.
Butterflies sail, with winds as their mates,
And I do fly, and petals fly with me.
Rules are for mortals,Rules are for sane,
Caught in the box, they never shake their brains.
Crumbled with the dry leaves, I do remain,
A thorn on a rose, what people call insane.

A special thanks to Rahul Göma Phuloré who was along with me in my madness, and my sis for choosing the apt title

Spaces

Jumbled in his brain, a bug roams,
From nerve to nerve, it hops and crawls.
He sits and the time stops,
Compressed in his imagination.

Closed within the wall he tries to be strong,
But the walls grow and the memories explode,
Was it darkness or the fading light,
The bug flourishes in the empty thoughts.

The bug crawls, eating his strength,
It walks within the square he drew.
Spine chilling laughter, a glitter in its eye,
Is it fear or the insanity that looms.

He wakes every morning, thinking of the dreams,
Clusters of memories collapse, darkness ensues.
Is it the open spaces he fears,
Or the frozen time and closed Squares.

Hypocrite?

Dedicated to my dear college which made me the kind of person I am now.

Do you fall to stand up again,
Or Stand to fall back.

Do you walk to move forward,
Or move forward to walk.

When you reach, do you look back,
On the path you took to reach

Would you stand up,
For a person who fails.
Would you raise your voice,
For a person who shames you?

Do you like some to dislike others,
Or dislike others to like some.

Do you fake your smile to hide your sorrow,
Or hide your sorrow to fake one.

What happens, when you prove your point?
Is it the happiness, or the sense of pride

Would you stand up
For the System that fails,
Would you raise your voice
For the System that shames you?

The Fragile Beauty

Dedicated to the one who makes me Happy, Calm and more of me again.

In my arms she lay,
With her dreams on her lips.
As she sang, the wind danced,
And her curls caressed my fingers.

Was it her song,
That made the clouds hide,
For the day was bright,
And I missed no sunshine.

The fragility of grace,
Made my heart leap, leap with joy.
Here she lays on my arm,
Her hands playing with my fingers.

She made me dream,
Dream of a day with no fear.
Its her eyes that I love,
Its her voice that sooth my being.

The faint smile,
That plays on her lips,
The light touch of nature's love,
That sparkles in her eye.

She speaks and I hear,
Nothing would stay, she says,
Then she breaks into a kiss,
Nothing I care for, I say.

The Broken Mask

She stood in the cell, condemned to death,
Anger turned to sorrow, and hope to despair,
Tonight she would be burnt on the stake,
As a witch, she stands, she cries, she pleads.
Nothing is heard, as she wails in her cell.

She seduced our men, cried the women-folk,
She used them in her magic, used them to satisfy.
The tribunal heard the plea, heard their complaints
"What do you have to say against it, oh witch"
She stood there, a silent tear escaped her eye

She stole our kids, she took them away,
And she made ragged dolls of their cloths and hair,
Kids grew sick and all of them died, none did she spare
"What do you have to say against it, oh witch"
She stood there, silence, that is all that survived

Years of solitude, she had spent in her shell,
A witch by nature not by chance or free will.
All she wanted were some friends who would care,
Who would ask her whereabouts and console her soul,
But a witch she was, so the world condemned her.

And as she stands, tied and fastened to the stake
As the fire eats her flesh, she screams, pain,
The mask that covered her face, covered her soul
Is broken and her life lays open infront of all
And the town dances around as she burns on the stake.

Reasons

I waited, under the orange sunlight,
Waiting for the reasons to dawn,
Every night, I sleep with questions,
Every day I try to find the reasons.

There was this time when reasons didn't exist, I was happy, then from somewhere, someone gave me a reason for doing things. I split my self. I searched for reasons, reasons to be happy, reasons to be sad, reasons to love and reasons to hate. There was this time, when reasons became everything in life, reasons became the only reason for existence. I searched the depths of humanity for the reasons of war, why a man loves his beloved. Reasons started governing my life, reasons started directing my actions, my choices. I became enslaved to reasons.


He had this smile, when he kissed her lips,
He had this feeling, which love could only give.
He lived for her, and he died for her,
But today he asks, 'why should I without reasons to give'.


If there were a purpose for survival, I would search for it, but why, I would still ask, "Reasons" are like Ideas. They destroy the very instinct to survive.

I am just afraid that someday I may start asking for reasons to survive, "What is use of life itself. No reasons.".


I miss him, the kid who did things without reasons. I miss him, for he was free, free to do what he wished for. That kid grew into a man who needs reasons to exist, reasons to survive.

I feel like the third servant of the rich man, who hid his money, without utilizing it. I feel like him, and I am afraid that on the day of judgement, I would be asked "Why didn't I utilize the talents that were given to me?", I am such a shame, a failure, just because I ask for reasons to share. I am afraid I might start asking reasons to care and to love.

He waits for the rain to go,
As it floods his inner soul,
Is it despair or a quest for reason,
He doesn't know, He doesn't ask,
Soon silence will descend,
No reason would exist,
Then again he would ask,
Give me the reason, reasons to survive,
Give me freedom,
freedom from the reason that enslaves
Give me peace, and give me life,
For reasons exist, for those who seek,
Those who seek the reason to Life.

The Butterfly Face

Was it fate, or a mere coincedence,
That our lives were to collide,
Under the dreary day, and a sunny night,
What more could the nature provide.

A flap of a wing, or a flutter of an eyelid,
Was it the beauty that blinded my sight,
As for my fate, oh a twisted one at that,
so how come you are my magical sunlight?

She flips her mane, and raises her face,
Like butterfly wings, they float in air.
She brushes her hair and smiles at me,
Dazed I doubt my newly gained sunshine.

She walks, with the tender touch,
As the butterfly floats along,
Like the water, her body does sway,
And like moon, her beauty does shine.

She is a nymph, with beauty untold,
Carefully crafted, by natures own hand.
The elements of life, dwel in her,
The elegence of beauty, crowns her head.

She does live, but in my dreams,
Where butterflies I do chase.
She will be mine, forever more,
The woman with the butterfly face.